The felt curtain fell, and candlelight flickered in the room.

Yaoying followed behind Tanmoluojia as they walked inside. “What does Master want to tell me?”

Tanmoluojia’s figure suddenly stiffened and stopped.

Yaoying almost stepped on his kasaya and quickly halted her steps, looking up.

He turned to look at her, his gaze falling on her face, his jade-green eyes profound.

“Bisuo is still investigating the temple guards. Princess, stay here until dawn, then Yuanjue will escort you back.”

Yaoying was somewhat surprised. Had Tanmoluojia kept her here only because he worried there might still be villains lurking in the King’s Temple?

A few days ago, he had deliberately shown weakness, and with the temple’s surroundings teeming with all sorts of people, someone had managed to sneak in. Now that he had purged the court and consolidated military power, no one would dare to openly spy on the King’s Temple, and with martial law throughout the city, things should be safe.

Yaoying had thought Tanmoluojia kept her here because he wanted to discuss preparations against the Northern Rong with her.

Her heart warmed, and she smiled, “Then I’ll have to trouble Master again tonight.”

Tanmoluojia said nothing, brushed aside the silk curtain, and walked in.

Yaoying didn’t follow him inside. Instead, familiar with the place, she found bedding in the outer room and chose an inconspicuous corner to sit cross-legged with the quilts. Neither the inner nor outer meditation rooms had large beds, only low sitting platforms, with wool carpets spread on the floor. She had slept on the carpet last night.

Having slept too long yesterday, she wasn’t feeling sleepy now. She took out paper and brush, spread out the paper, and examined it carefully in the candlelight.

The silk curtain swayed gently, and the hem of a snow-white kasaya flashed in the candlelight.

Yaoying held the paper and looked up.

Tanmoluojia stood before her, his eyes downcast, his eyelashes black. The candlelight was dim, casting a long shadow on the ground.

Yaoying couldn’t see his expression. She rubbed her eyes and asked softly, “Did I disturb Master?”

The corners of her eyes were slightly red as if daubed with bright rouge. Though she wasn’t smiling, her eyes and brows still gave an impression of being full of mirth. The hazy candlelight on her face gave her a subtle charm, though her gaze remained clear and pure.

Tanmoluojia glanced at the rolled-up bedding beside her.

Yaoying followed his gaze and patted the bedding, saying, “I can sleep here just fine.”

She had endured wind and rain before, sleeping in tents, carriages, on sandy ground, in caves, in forests – she had slept everywhere and didn’t care where she rested.

Tanmoluojia bent down and moved the candlestick.

As he took away the only light source, Yaoying was stunned for a moment but had to stand up and follow.

Tanmoluojia walked into the inner room, placed the candlestick on a low table beside a bed behind the screen, and said, “I have never slept on this bed. The Princess may rest here.”

The low bed was layered with several Persian brocades, complete with quilts and pillows, perfectly neat without a single wrinkle, indeed looking as if no one had ever slept there.

Yaoying thanked him, and seeing him about to leave, thought for a moment and asked, “May I borrow the writing implements from Master’s desk?”

She had been afraid of disturbing his desk or accidentally seeing something she shouldn’t, so during the day she hadn’t dared touch anything in the meditation room, asking Bamir for help whenever she needed paper or brushes.

Tanmoluojia had his back to her as he nodded and said, “The Princess may freely use anything in the room. If you need anything else, have someone bring it.”

He walked out, and the silk curtain fell, separating the inner and outer rooms.

Yaoying walked to Tanmoluojia’s desk, chose a brush, sat cross-legged, and began writing and drawing on the paper, her movements very gentle.

This time when Tanmoluojia reorganized the four armies, he didn’t let Su Dan Gu appear – he must have his considerations. He and Khan Wahan were old opponents; only he knew how to make Khan Wahan take the bait step by step.

From her instigation between Khan Wahan and Haidu Aling to the fratricidal conflict between Haidu Aling and Jin Bo’s group, to Khan Wahan setting up an ambush to lure the royal court’s army, to now having the various countries’ envoys witness him consolidating military power… the game between him and Khan Wahan had been ongoing.

All she needed to do was wait patiently and look for opportunities.

Yaoying calculated silently in her heart, drawing map after map, still not satisfied.

With a soft pop, a wisp of smoke rose, the candle went out, and the inner room fell into darkness.

Yaoying came to her senses, rubbed her fingers, tidied up the papers, and tiptoed back to the bed. She lifted the silk curtain to peek outside.

The outer room was pitch black and dim. Tanmoluojia sat cross-legged before the long table in meditation, his figure like a Buddha statue, completely still.

Is this how all monks sleep at night?

Yaoying muttered inwardly, lay down, and closed her eyes.

Shortly after falling asleep, she turned over, and in her drowsy state felt a gaze fixed upon her. She jerked awake from her dream.

On the falcon perch, a pair of eyes gleaming in the darkness stared at her steadily.

A chill ran down Yaoying’s spine, but then she realized it was Garuda, the gray falcon raised by the Buddha’s son. She couldn’t help but smile and closed her eyes to continue sleeping.

Before she could fall asleep, the sound of fluttering wings came to her ears. The falcon flew to the low bed, its sharp claws hooking the quilt and pulling, its beak gently pecking her arm.

Yaoying was somewhat pained by the pecking and sat up helplessly. The falcon hooked her clothes with its claws, its wings flapping violently as if trying to pull her up.

“Are you hungry? Should I feed you some dried meat?”

The falcon remained unmoved and continued pecking at Yaoying.

Disturbed from sleep, Yaoying had to stand up and lift the silk curtain, intending to ask Tanmoluojia for help. Her gaze swept over where he sat in meditation, and she was startled.

Tanmoluojia’s body trembled slightly, sweat pouring down like rain. His face and neck were drenched in sweat, and even half of his kasaya was soaked.

Something seemed wrong with him.

Was this why the falcon had woken her?

Yaoying stepped barefoot onto the floor and quickly walked to Tanmoluojia’s side.

“Master?”

She called to him softly.

Tanmoluojia’s eyes remained tightly closed, with no response.

Yaoying extended two fingers to gently touch his shoulder.

…

Tanmoluojia had entered deep meditation.

He had violated the precept against killing and gone to the disciplinary hall for punishment. His back throbbed with pain like needles piercing into his bones, penetrating to the marrow.

Having made such a choice, he deserved punishment.

This kind of pain had long become normal to him, and he didn’t find it particularly remarkable. On his way back from the disciplinary hall to the meditation room, no one had noticed anything unusual about him. Only when he suddenly saw the young woman’s smiling, beautiful face did he experience a moment of bewilderment.

After settling her in, he recited sutras, feeling his soul seem to drift away, his consciousness floating, his mind clear yet empty, endless darkness swallowing him.

In a dark cell, a child wearing gray monk’s robes stood before a wrinkled old man reciting scriptures, his voice clear and bright.

Tanmoluojia recognized his younger self.

From birth, he had been confined in the disciplinary hall. Master Boluoliuzhi came daily to teach him Buddhism, telling him about the suffering of all beings in the chaotic world outside, instructing him to use Buddhist teachings to save the people from the ravages of war and deliver all beings.

Those scriptures, he could recite after reading them once. The writing his master taught, he quickly mastered. When temple monks came to test him with questions, he answered fluently.

The monks all said he showed early wisdom and had the bearing of greatness, sure to become a great vessel of Buddhism.

His master was overjoyed and placed great hopes in him.

“Luojia, you are the royal court’s ruler, the Buddha’s reincarnation. You will surely pacify this chaotic world and save the suffering masses from the flames of war!”

“Though the Zhang family controls the court, they cannot control the situation. They only know how to levy heavy taxes and plunder extensively, losing the people’s hearts. The people only recognize the Tanmo family’s king. When you grow up and take personal control of the government, you can reform these ills and let the people escape their sea of suffering.”

“Luojia, you must study Buddhism well and take control of the government soon!”

Tanmoluojia devoted himself to study, earnestly learning how to be a qualified Buddha’s son and ruler.

As word of his early wisdom spread, the common people began hoping he would quickly take control of the government. The aristocratic families were humiliated and angry, trying every way to torment him, wanting to completely break him.

The guards wouldn’t give him food. When he was dizzy with hunger, he endured physical torment by focusing on Buddhist scriptures one after another.

Soldiers deliberately whipped prisoners in the adjacent cell, their screams penetrating his ears. He remembered his master’s instructions and silently recited Buddhist scriptures to drive away his fear.

At such a young age, he recited scriptures, studied classics extensively, could compose passages spontaneously, and lectured on Buddhist verses.

The people respected and loved him, hoping he would grow up quickly to lead them to peaceful and happy days.

However, when the Zhang family brought him to the square and cut off the heads of his male and female relatives one by one, he could only stand there and watch as his clan members died one after another.

Clan members were terrified, kneeling to beg for mercy, trembling under the bloodied blade.

“Have mercy, have mercy, spare my child!”

“He’s not even as tall as a wheel, kill me, but spare him!”

“Please show compassion…”

“Commander, spare my life, I’ll be your slave…”

“Please, don’t kill my mother, don’t kill my mother…”

The blade rose and fell, blood and flesh flew, the pleas for mercy were cut short, and more screams and wails rose, merging, echoing over the square for a long time.

Tanmoluojia stood among the fallen corpses, blood splattered all over his head and face, thick drops of blood slowly trickling down his monk’s robes, drip, drip.

The dripping sound continued for a very long time.

Until all the pleading voices had stopped, and all he could see before him was a ground of dismembered bodies.

One living being after another, just disappeared before his eyes.

Chima’s wails were hysterical, desolate, and desperate.

She clutched him tightly, her fingers convulsing, screaming at him.

“Why aren’t you crying? Why don’t you have a single tear?”

“You’ve been a monk since childhood… you don’t care about anything… you won’t feel heartbroken…”

She held their dead relatives and wailed loudly.

Tanmoluojia fell seriously ill, delirious in his sickness, countless demons and fierce ghosts dancing around him in celebration, the ghosts of dead relatives screaming painfully in his ears.

He sank and struggled in his illness, as if in the gloomy Avici Hell, his body constantly torn apart, flesh and bones mercilessly beaten, suffering extreme torment.

His master sighed deeply, saying that witnessing the death of his clan members at such a young age had greatly shocked him, and he feared that demons had already entered his heart, making it impossible for him to advance further in Buddhism.

After recovering from his illness, he picked up the Buddhist scriptures again to study.

His master wept with joy.

“Luojia, you managed to overcome this trial, truly extraordinary! This was Buddha’s tempering of you. You are Ananda reborn, destined to experience trials one after another, to make your mind steadfast, cut off emotional attachments, eliminate troubles, enter nirvana, and attain enlightenment.”

Tanmoluojia’s will was strong. He drove away the heart demons and, like before, firmly believed that Buddhism could ultimately deliver all beings.

But there were things that Buddhism couldn’t do.

Buddhism could guide him to understand life and death, transcend the three realms, realize the truth of cessation, and forever leave the suffering of the six paths of reincarnation.

But Buddhism couldn’t make evil people lay down their knives, scriptures couldn’t save his relatives, and Sanskrit chanting couldn’t rescue the people from disaster.

War raged, corpses littered the fields, smoke filled the air, and devastation everywhere.

The weak and elderly were slaughtered, people treated like ants, their names like grass.

He wasn’t just the Buddha’s son, but also the royal court’s ruler.

Without real power, he couldn’t stop the killing.

Besides studying Buddhism, he began to learn how to manage state affairs, negotiate with aristocratic families, and gauge people’s hearts.

Boluoliuzhi secretly trained guards for him, selecting some nobles’ children and some slaves who were being sold like livestock.

Bisuo was one of them. He voluntarily asked to become Boluoliuzhi’s disciple, vowing to live and die for him.

They trained hard in martial arts, becoming his most loyal personal guards.

Boluoliuzhi worried: “With just these few people, we can’t shake the aristocratic families. Luojia, as you grow day by day, they won’t spare you.”

“Even if you can take personal control of the government, you won’t be able to take back power. You’ll be marginalized, becoming their puppet to manipulate.”

“You need a helper, someone who can intimidate the aristocratic families, bear all the killing for you, and always be loyal to you. He must be cold and ruthless, without family or relatives, without weaknesses or burdens.”

“He must also be highly skilled in martial arts, able to turn danger into safety no matter how much bloodshed he encounters, and follow you steadfastly.”

Bisuo and Yuanjue curiously asked: “Like Master’s senior fellow apprentice General Saisang’er? He was the Regent, loyal to the royal family all his life, devoted himself completely to the king, spent his life in warfare, he was the most formidable warrior in the royal court in a hundred years!”

A trace of melancholy crossed Boluoliuzhi’s aged face.

“Yes, like General Saisang’er.”

Boluoliuzhi told his students: “General Saisang’er practiced a secret dharma passed down through generations in the royal court’s Buddhist sect, the Vajra dharma. It was tyrannical and fierce. If mastered, one would become supremely skilled, but the practitioner must be pure of heart and have extremely strong will and self-control. Otherwise, once emotions fluctuate, it’s easy to go astray and be backlashed by the dharma, becoming a demon of cold-blooded killing. That’s why historically only Buddhist disciples practiced this dharma.”

The young men competed to learn the dharma, all wanting to become great heroes like General Saisang’er.

Boluoliuzhi shook his head and sighed long.

“From the moment one begins practicing this dharma, one must consistently take pills to suppress it. Each time the medicine disperses, it extremely damages the body. At first, it’s just weakness in the limbs, then gradually it becomes more and more painful as if every bone in the body has been crushed by elephants. Later, the legs swell, and gradually become unable to walk. Finally, one becomes withered and exhausted, like a lamp running out of oil.”

“Practice this dharma, and you’re destined to die in your prime. Do you still want to practice it?”

The young men hesitated, then nodded firmly.

For the Buddha’s son, they were willing to practice!

Boluoliuzhi began teaching the young men the dharma.

The dharma was too evil. The first few young men who learned it went astray in their practice after a few months, showing signs of losing control.

Fearing they would develop problems, Boluoliuzhi dared not let them continue and began teaching Bisuo and Yuanjue.

Neither was suitable for the Vajra dharma, unable to bear it. The others who had learned first also gradually showed various symptoms of discomfort.

That day, a young slave tried to break through the dharma by secretly taking an overdose of medicine. He bled from seven orifices and nearly died. Though he fortunately survived, he became disabled.

And the young man most suitable for practicing the dharma was impetuous. In a martial arts competition, he almost accidentally killed his brother. After becoming clear-headed, he showed no remorse, only thinking about mastering the dharma quickly so no one could match him.

Boluoliuzhi was almost in despair.

Tanmoluojia found him: “Master, you once said I had extraordinary potential. Let me try.”

Boluoliuzhi was greatly alarmed: “No, you are the Buddha’s son, the ruler, how can you practice such a dharma? Practice this dharma, and your life is over! Study Buddhism well, don’t worry about these things.”

Tanmoluojia looked at the young men seriously practicing outside the cell, and pressed his palms together, his expression peaceful.

“If I don’t enter hell, who will?”

If only thunder-like methods could achieve a bodhisattva’s heart, he was willing to bear all karmic retribution and kill the villains himself.

Boluoliuzhi’s whole body shook. He stared at him for a long while, sighed, and tried letting him practice the dharma.

Three months later, Tanmoluojia showed no signs of being affected by the dharma. The pain after the medicine dispersed, he could also grit his teeth and endure.

He was the most suitable Regent.

Boluoliuzhi let out a long sigh.

“Perhaps this is heaven’s will…”

…

After taking back royal power, the Zhang family was punished.

Chima demanded he completely exterminate the Zhang family – men, women, old and young, even the elderly, women, and children of distant branches, not sparing a single one.

He refused.

Though the pain inflicted on him was so bone-deep, he wouldn’t take revenge on innocent people.

Chima cursed him in disappointment.

“Have you forgotten those who died before your eyes? You don’t care about the Tanmo family at all! You’re not worthy to be king!”

…

Tanmoluojia never regretted this decision, so he rarely recalled the past in these years.

He watched his younger self stop Chima from hunting down innocent commoners, calmly turning away, letting her curse and scream behind him.

The vision before his eyes gradually faded.

A thread of warm light penetrated the darkness.

A gentle call echoed in his ears.

“Master?”

Tanmoluojia opened his eyes.

The young woman’s anxious face drew close to his eyes, her long eyes reflecting his sweating face. She held a handkerchief, gently wiping away the sweat between his brows.

He grasped her hand, gazing into her clear eyes.

“Where do you come from?”

Yaoying was stunned, blinked her eyes, looking somewhat bewildered, and said softly: “…From Wei country in the Central Plains.”

Tanmoluojia gazed at her for a long while, then released her hand.

Ten thousand li, so far away, separated by vast deserts, towering mountains, and boundless rivers.

Why had she, of all people, come to his side?